


With you by my side

by fandammit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandammit/pseuds/fandammit
Summary: Miller watches Jackson watching Kane and Abby. He wonders what Jackson thinks of the two. He wonders what Jackson thinks of him.





	With you by my side

As far Miller could tell, they were pretty fucked.   
  
"We're not fucked," Jackson said quietly next to him.   
  
He turned towards Jackson, blinking back his surprise. First, that Jackson even said the word _fucked_. It seemed weird and wrong (and, therefore, hot). Secondly-

"I didn't mean to say that out loud," he muttered, scraping his hand across his beard.    
  
Jackson glanced over at him and smiled - a small, shy thing that made Miller's heart leap awkwardly and annoyingly up to his throat.   
  
"You didn't," Jackson replied, bumping his shoulder into Miller’s. "I could just tell by the look on your face."

He raised his eyebrow, a smirk ghosting across his lips.

“Spend a lot of time staring at my face, Jackson?”

Jackson cleared his throat and huffed out a chuckle, turning to face Miller directly.

“It can’t be all that surprising,” Jackson said. His voice was low, shy in a way that seemed nearly purposefully coy. Miller peered closely at him, trying to catch his expression, before replying with an uncharacteristic level of hesitance.

“It actually kind of is.”

Jackson blinked a few times, a thoughtful look on his face as turned his eyes up to meet Miller’s.

Somehow, impossibly, Jackson’s eyes still shone bright in the darkness, warm and kind with an electric hint of mischief at the edges. In the fire-lit dimness of the jail cell, they looked almost gold.

Miller had never been much for describing things as _beautiful_ \- the word didn’t really have a place up in the coldness of the Ark and life on the ground had been too fucking brutal for it to warrant a use - but it was the only word that popped into his mind as he found himself momentarily unable to look away from Jackson’s gaze.

He sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly and shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

A vain attempt, apparently, since in the next second his eyes dropped down to Jackson’s lips. It was only for the slightest moment but enough, he realized, for Jackson to catch him looking. He wanted to grimace at being caught, but instead felt a flare of want - close and heavy - when he saw his own desire reflected back at him, found that Jackson’s elegant mouth had curved up into a smile.

A loud, guttural sound of laughter from their Azgeda guards broke the moment, drawing their attention away from one another and towards the front of their jail cell.

Miller let out a long push of air, half disappointed, half relieved at the interruption. However much he wanted to kiss Jackson - and it was, admittedly, an absurdly overwhelming feeling of want - doing so in the middle of an Azgeda jail with their Chancellor and Chief Medical Officer and half a dozen Arkadia guards three steps away and their lives in the hands of a pissed off Azgeda king wasn’t exactly ideal.

Although, honestly, a part of him thought they that were definitely staring down the end of their lives and, barring that, were certainly staring down the end of the world. Given that, wasn’t any moment an ideal moment?

He scrubbed a hand across his beard again and, in an effort to keep himself from simply launching himself at Jackson, let his eyes wander around the jail cell instead.

His gaze landed on the Chancellor and Dr. Griffin huddled together on a narrow bench at the far end of the cell. The cell was made to hold at least twice the amount of its current half dozen, but the two were still pushed closely together as though any kind separation would be some kind of inconvenience. Her legs were draped over his lap, her head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Somehow they’d managed it so that both their hands were tangled together; Dr. Griffin was tracing the lines of Kane’s fingers as they rested on her knees, her other hand looped around her torso to join with his around her shoulders.

For two people who seemed so decidedly undemonstrative, it was a weird to see them so wrapped up in one another. Weirder still to realize how natural it seemed, as if they had spent their entire lives intertwined, when he in fact knew the exact opposite to be true. His father had been a guard long enough to have brought home enough stories of Councilor Kane and Dr. Griffin screaming at each other _yet again_ over opposite ends of the Council table. Even in the weeks following Mount Weather - when personal space between the two disappeared completely, Kane spent half his time visibly fighting to keep himself from reaching out to touch Dr. Griffin, and the entire camp had stories of walking in on the two almost kissing - their relationship had been one of restraint, of holding back rather than giving in.

He heard Jackson shift next to him and glanced back at him, taking note of the expression on his face.

“Is that weird for you?” Miller asked, gesturing to Kane and Dr. Griffin in the corner.

Jackson hesitated briefly - so much so that someone who wasn’t paying attention probably wouldn’t notice.

So, of course, Miller noticed.  

Because - and he was finally willing to admit this - he spent a lot of time noticing Jackson; spent time studying his face when he wasn’t looking -  taking note of the tiniest inflections of emotion across his generally placid face, the variations of cadence in his tone.

Apparently the only thing he hadn’t noticed was how much Jackson had noticed him.

“Why would it be weird?” Jackson replied, his voice so devoid of identifying emotion it could only be practiced.

“You said you’ve basically spent most of your time with the Griffins since your mom died.” Jackson tilted his head, obviously surprised that he remembered so much. There was something profoundly lonely about the way Jackson was always so taken aback when someone other than Abby remembered him or understood him or even just _saw_ him; it made Miller’s heart ache a little. On impulse, he reached out and rested his hand on Jackson’s knee. “That makes Dr. Griffin kind of like a mom to you, right? So it must be a little like seeing your mom get re-married.”

Jackson looked down at Miller hand on his knee so long that Miller wondered if he should move it away. Instead, Jackson moved his hand over Miller’s before tilting his head up, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

“It’s so - uh - charming to me that you call her Dr. Griffin.”

Miller rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t his lips curling up as he did.  

“Yes, I’m adorable.” He deadpanned, then grinned at Jackson. “And so are you,” he said, relishing way Jackson’s eyes lit up as he said it. “But you’re also changing the subject.”

Jackson’s smile turned rueful as he nodded slowly.

“It was weird. But not so much any more.”

He huffed a laugh at Miller’s skeptical eyebrow raise.

“It’s still a little weird.”

Jackson looked over back over at the couple. Miller studied the lightness in his expression as Dr. Griffin laughed at something Kane said, the sound carefree and relaxed in a way he hadn’t heard from her in weeks. Kane dipped his head to drop a kiss along Abby’s hairline, the adoration and devotion plainly written across his face, obvious even from where they were across the room. Jackson turned back towards him. “Abby - she just sees the best in everyone, you know? She’s just a good person, through and through.”

“So, you don’t think that Kane is good enough for her?”

Jackson considered his words, then shook his head.

“I’m not sure if I think anyone is good enough for her.”

Miller nodded, then glanced back over at Dr. Griffin and Kane. As cold as Kane used to be, his emotions were always clearly displayed on his face when it came to Dr. Griffin. In that hellish torture chamber under Mount Weather, it had been desperation and despair and panic wrapped into one, his hands straining against the cuffs in a futile attempt to free her - or else, switch places with her. In those long winter months after Mount Weather, it had been longing and desperation of a different kind, the despair of a man who sees something he wants and wonders if he’ll ever deserve it.

Even now, with Abby wrapped in his arms, her hands clasped around his own, there was still a glimmer of disbelief on his face, a lingering undertow of amazement that he no longer had to hold himself away from her.

He turned towards Jackson.

“You know, I think Kane would actually agree with you on that one.”

Jackson nodded.

“I’ve always known he was a smart man.”

They were quiet for a long moment, Jackson focused on their clasped hands, Miller studying Dr. Griffin and Kane.

“And anyway,” Jackson finally said, “it’s not really about deserving, is it? If it were, then we’d probably all end up alone.”

Miller stared at him for a moment before stretching his legs out in front of him, then turned his hand over to twine their fingers together and brought their hands up to his lap.

“People like Kane and I would.” He looked over at Jackson with unmasked affection. “But people like you and Abby wouldn’t.”

Jackson gave him a long, heady look before shuffling closer to him, their arms flush with one another, his head dropping down against Miller’s shoulder

They were turned towards Kane and Dr. Griffin, whose heads were now bowed low in furtive discussion. They’d shifted enough for Miller to see the complete tenderness between the two, for him to notice the way Dr. Griffin’s fingertips traced the emptiness around Kane’s ring finger, how Kane’s stare lingered on the place where her necklace used to be.

There was something achingly hopeful about it, about _them_ . About the fact that two people could come back from bitterness between them and darkness within them, could find tenderness and light and _love_ for the first time and again, despite war around them and sorrow within them.

“He really loves her,” Jackson said after a moment, his words mirroring Miller’s own thoughts. “He loves her the way she deserves to be loved.” He shifted up to look at Miller. “I think that’s enough to make someone worthy.”  

Miller nodded, his cheek brushing against the soft strands of Jackson’s dark hair. Idly, he wondered what they might feel like tangled in his fingers.

He hoped there’d be enough time to find out.

“God, I really, really hope we’re not fucked.”


End file.
